


Handling Wants

by eclecticxdetour



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Barebacking, Bottom Steve, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-20 23:06:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1529081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eclecticxdetour/pseuds/eclecticxdetour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the asset, desire was nonexistant. As Bucky Barnes, he's unsure how to deal with being allowed to want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Handling Wants

**Title** : Handling Wants  
 **Pairing** : Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers  
 **Word Count** : 5000  
 **Rating** : 18+  
 **Warnings** : post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, PTSD symptoms, fellatio, rimming, barebacking, bottom!Steve  
 **Spoilers** : light Captain America: The Winter Soldier spoilers, particularly the post-post credits scene  
 **Disclaimer** : I don't own either of these characters.  
 **Summary** : As the asset, desire was nonexistant. As Bucky Barnes, he's unsure how to deal with being _allowed_ to want.

It was still so unusual, to _want_. When he…wasn’t himself, desire was nonexistent. The soldier had its directives and its sole purpose was to fulfill them, to complete the mission and return for stasis before enacting the process all over again. And again. And however long after until the soldier’s usefulness waned and disappeared along with the husk of the weapon.

He’d been to the Smithsonian. He saw the Howling Commandos, side by side by side with Steve Rogers at the center and Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes to the Captain’s left, wearing his face. He _did_ know the man on the bridge. Not from earlier in that hellacious week, but _earlier_. In a schoolyard in the 30s. On a stoop sipping cokes after then. At Stark’s expo. In European theater, bivouacked fifteen klicks from the nearest Hydra base, legs entangled and Steve’s pulse fluttering under the press of his mouth. That same man on the bridge in the soldier’s crosshairs, brows creased and a nickname he hadn’t been called for seventy years falling from his frowning mouth.

The soldier couldn’t _afford_ to want, but James Barnes could. He could want and _not_ want. What he didn’t want was to encounter Steve as he was, dirty and confused, memories of Steve and his past life half-formed while the Winter Soldier’s wetwork frequently cropped up at the forefront of his mind.

When Steve and Sam found him, Bucky had _wanted_ to be found. Guilt overwhelmed him and pitting who he was against _what_ he’d been turned into exhausted his body and shut him down. Thank fuck for Sam Wilson. The man had seen battle, flown into Afghanistan and Iraq in the midst of arty strikes to casevac fellow service members. He’d counseled countless veterans, helped them understand the validity of their PTSD and that the horrific things they’d done under the name of military duty didn’t confound their individual morality. They were remorseful over the people they’d killed while deployed; true _killers_ bore no guilt.

James— _Bucky—wanted_ that reassurance; the people the Winter Soldier had murdered weren’t on James Buchanan Barnes’ conscience. Bucky Barnes had no agency while the Winter Soldier had its orders.

Months of counseling propelled Bucky toward a more wholesome existence. He recognized the deployment of the Winter Soldier and his life (growing up with Steve, going to war, living in the 21st century) as two separate realities. In one, he was an absent observer, a _victim_ of things outside of his control. In the other, he had a renewed autonomy.

He could say no, or yes, or nothing at all, smirk and cant his shoulders or _smile_. His will was his way. Nobody dictated his actions besides himself.

So when Steve tentatively asked him to move in, Bucky’d said yes because he _wanted_ to. Steve was his only constant and had dealt with waking up in a new century. At first his body rejected the idea of cohabitation with Steve, but he _wanted_ to be with Steve, his best friend and, if his intermittent memories served, _more_. He wanted nothing more than to be at Steve’s nine as Steve caught him up on every film the Avengers had insisted were vital cinematic viewing.

He could want and not want. Not wanting to get out of bed when Steve asked him to join him and Sam on their morning run was allowed. Wanting to make bacon and omelets when Steve returned was acceptable and greatly appreciated if Steve’s grins and satisfied sighs were any indication.

 _Wanting_ to keep his hair longer made Steve frown and slide his fingers through his own short hair, but when Steve left to pick up take-out for lunch he returned with their sandwiches and a packet of colorful elastics. They’d spent their lunch hour figuring out different ways to pull his hair back from his face while devouring their sandwiches and fries.

Casual wants, things Bucky wanted for himself that had no effect on other people, were much easier to accept.

Wanting _Steve_ , though. And _he_ did want Steve. Not the Bucky from the 40s, but this Bucky _now_. His fractured memories did right by Steve’s kindness and nobility, but experiencing his inherent _goodness_ , the ease with which Steve carried himself while they were together, made him want Steve all the more. He wanted to tuck Steve in that space in his chest and keep him there, always.

He noticed the way Steve noticed him, hard not to when Steve looked at him like he held all seven wonders in the palms of his hands. His memories of their time together, a time when Steve was a wisp of the stature he now was, a time when Steve wore a brown leather jacket and a stolen USO performer’s helmet, revealed that Steve had looked at him the same way even then. His memories of stolen moments in the dark of their shared apartment were not just broken fragments of his imagination.

Sitting on the couch now, with Steve at his three, casually lounging in loose grey sweatpants and too tight Under Armour, Bucky _knew_ Steve wanted, _hoped_ , they could have what they had once. Steve glanced at him between scenes of whatever hit they were watching on Netflix. He carefully pressed his bent knee against Steve’s thigh, pulse quickening when Steve’s fingers twitched against his own leg.

“Okay?” asked Steve, having to swallow twice before the inquiry came out steady.

Bucky nodded, brow furrowing as he let his gaze drop to the place where they touched. He drew his palm along his bare leg, felt Steve’s eyes following the movement, air shifting, Steve’s intentions obvious before Steve’s hand covered his own.

“ _Bucky_.”

He pulled his gaze from their hands, tracing the shapes of Steve’s muscles beneath his tee before he looked into Steve’s eyes. “Yeah, Steve?” Drawing his lip between his teeth, he let out a slow breath. Steve’s nostrils flared and his fingers tightened around Bucky’s wrist.

“Are you— _do you_ ,” he asked, shifting closer on the couch.

Bucky angled himself toward Steve, both legs tucked underneath him. Steve shifted even closer and his eyes flicked toward the exits of their own volition. His cybernetic hand curled into a fist, Stark’s son’s tech not enough to override his ingrained need for constant vigilance. Taking a deep breath, he forced his hand to relax, flipping his bio-hand and letting their fingers curl together. “What do you think?” he asked quietly, breath catching when Steve tucked an errant lock of hair behind his ear.

“Do you remember more from before?” asked Steve, dropping his palm to curve around Bucky’s neck, thumb rubbing over the stubble on his jaw.

He nodded again, leaning into Steve’s heated touch. “I’ve _been_ remembering. I _want_ \--”

Steve grinned and squeezed Bucky’s shoulder. “Do you?”

“Do _you_?” he shot back, eyes wide as they flicked over Steve’s face, looking for any sign of discomfort or disgust and finding none. Steve’s eyes were bright, cheeks a little flushed, tongue unconsciously sliding back and forth over his lush bottom lip.

“Yeah, Buck. _Yes_ , if you’re sure,” said Steve, fingers dipping under the left strap of Bucky’s tank, fingertips tentatively stroking over the scarring there.

Bucky shivered, covering Steve’s hand as he convinced his body to relax. “Tell me you want to; I want to hear it.”

“I want you, Buck. I always will, whatever you wanna share with me,” said Steve, dipping his head and looking up at Bucky through the thick fan of his lashes.

“Still?” asked Bucky, narrowing his eyes and shifting his arm so Steve’s fingertips grazed the join of flesh and metal.

Steve smirked and cocked his head. “Would I lie? I’m Captain America, Bucky, the paragon of honest and loyal, pal,” he said, keeping eye contact as he leant in and kissed Bucky’s cybernetic shoulder.

“You,” Bucky swallowed hard, “you don’t mind it? I can switch on the hologram so it looks _normal_.”

“That’s not,” said Steve, catching Bucky’s hand before he could engage whatever tech Tony’d installed to disguise the metal, “I don’t care.” He dragged his hand down Bucky’s bionic arm, knew Bucky couldn’t really feel anything other than _pressure_ , but Bucky’s soft groan encouraged him. He curled their fingers together when he reached Bucky’s hand. “I’m gonna kiss you.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and threaded his fingers in Steve’s hair. “Way to kill it,” he whispered, gaze mapping Steve’s face as they both leant in, eyes falling closed when Steve’s lips met his own. Steve had always had soft lips. Even while sickly and coughing up his lungs, his lips retained their plushness and pinkness. They were smooth and slightly slick against his mouth, kiss gentle. He hummed, tongue sliding into Steve’s mouth when he moaned. Steve inched even closer, almost spread out over his lap as he re-angled their mouths. He dropped his hand to Steve’s bicep, muscle hard under the grip of his fingers.

Steve tugged at Bucky’s hand and lay back on the couch, one leg hanging off the edge so Bucky could settle between his thighs. Bucky pulled back and he looked up at Bucky with a quirked eyebrow. “Keep going?”

Bucky answered by pulling off his tank, chest flushing when Steve automatically searched out the scarring on his pec. He dragged his fingers over the raised flesh, Steve catching his bottom lip between his teeth and bucking slightly. “Do you like that?” he whispered, almost in disbelief as he dragged his fingertips back and forth over the scars.

“Who wouldn’t like watching you touch yourself?” said Steve, lips pulled up slightly, laugh bubbling out of him when Bucky snorted and leant down over him.

“Get yourself out of your baby clothes, Rogers.” Bucky shoved his hands up Steve’s shirt, hurriedly working it up under Steve’s armpits before Steve curled up and pulled it off, carelessly tossing it onto the coffee table. “I wanna touch you,” he said, because he _could_. He could let Steve know every single thing he wanted to do to Steve and every single thing he wanted Steve to do to him in return. Hands hovering over Steve’s body, he waited for Steve’s approval.

“ _God_ , Buck, please do,” said Steve, breathing deeply, chest pressing up against Bucky’s spread palms. He hummed, head thudding back against the armrest as Bucky trailed his fingers over his chest, cold metal fingers a shock compared to the heat of his bio-hand. Bucky teased his nipples into stiff peaks, mouth curled up at one corner. He let Bucky relearn his body, fingers impossibly gentle as Bucky stroked his skin, feeling out the tight musculature of his chest and abdomen.

“Who ever thought we’d be here, huh?” muttered Bucky, gaze flicking to Steve’s when he reached the waistband of Steve’s sweats.

“I’m glad we are. Bucky, without you--” his eyes widened, Bucky leaning down to stifle the words with his mouth. He reached up and fisted his hand in Bucky’s hair, body arcing toward Bucky under his fierce kisses. “Can I--” he gasped, Bucky kissing along his jaw until Bucky reached his pulse, sucking a bruise over the rapid throb, “can I tell you what _I_ want?”

“Give me your best, punk,” said Bucky, grinning against Steve’s throat and pulling back.

“Jerk,” laughed Steve, letting Bucky see his hands as he dropped them to the elastic of Bucky’s boxers. “I want you to take these off; let me see you.”

“That’s not what _I_ want.”

Steve frowned, lifting his hands from Bucky’s waist and holding them out in front of him. “Shit, Bucky, I didn’t mean--”

“You misunderstand me. I know your delicate sensibilities would never allow you to go commando under your clothes so you bet your ass you’re getting down to your underpants before I lose these shorts, buddy.”

Relieved, Steve laughed, gently pushing at Bucky’s chest so he had enough room to wiggle out of his sweatpants, erection obscenely stretching the crotch of his tiny briefs.

“Christ, Steve, how do you even _wear_ these,” asked Bucky, playfully snapping the elastic, breath catching from the brief glimpse of Steve’s hard cock.

“Natasha seems to believe this is what men wear nowadays, Buck.”

“I’m sure Natasha just likes imagining you wearing only these,” said Bucky, stroking the juts of Steve’s hipbones.

Moments passed, Bucky still teasing his fingertips over Steve’s hips, occasionally dipping beneath the waistband of his underwear. “What else do you want, Bucky? Tell me…”

Bucky caught his bottom lip between his teeth and tipped his head at Steve. “I want,” he swallowed audibly, thoughts overwhelmed with flashes of Steve bare and in all sorts of compromising positions, “I want to peel you out of these little panties, Steve. Get you naked and on your hands and knees. You like the sound of that?”

“ _Christ alive_ ,” hissed Steve, prick twitching beneath his briefs, “I like that very much.”

Nodding, Bucky got up from the sofa and held his hand out for Steve, lips twitching when Steve took his bionic hand instead. “Bedroom, Captain,” he said, guiding an all too pliant Steve into Steve’s bedroom before urging him onto the bed.

“I believe I said hands and knees,” said Bucky, voice pitched low, Steve’s Adam’s apple bobbing around his harsh swallow.

“Gonna be hard to get me out of these like that,” answered Steve, splaying on his back and smirking at Bucky. He planted his feet and lifted his hips, body rolling in a filthy wave.

“You really are a punk, you know that?” asked Bucky, clambering on the bed and settling between Steve’s legs again. Before Steve could sass him back, he roughly yanked down Steve’s underpants and dropped them on the floor, gaze greedily roving the length of Steve’s cock. “ _Fuck_ , Steve.”

Steve flushed, but bucked his hips, cock slapping against his navel. “This what you wanted?”

“We’re getting there,” said Bucky, dragging his right hand up Steve’s leg, fair hair smooth under his fingertips. Steve took his metal hand and curled it over his left leg.

“I want you to not worry about touching me with both hands, Bucky.” He caught Bucky’s eyes and pointedly raised his eyebrows.

Bucky nodded and dragged his hands up and down Steve’s legs, muscles thick and hard under his hands. When he reached Steve’s hips, he rubbed his thumbs over the creases of his groin, delighted when Steve’s cock twitched under the teasing stimulation.

“ _Bucky_.”

“Hm?”

He brushed his metal thumb over the hang of Steve’s balls, eyes widening when Steve’s thighs quivered as he swore.

“I want to feel you in my mouth,” he said, words falling free before he even thought to say them, sight of Steve’s hard cock against his firm abdomen making his mouth water.

“ _Fuck, please_ ,” said Steve, watching Bucky bend over his lap and fisting his hand in Bucky’s hair, keeping contact but not forceful.

Curling his bionic hand around Steve’s cock, he used his other hand to pin Steve’s hips, tongue teasing over Steve’s slick crown.

“Oh _god_ ,” moaned Steve, leaning up on an elbow and watching Bucky easily take him in to the root, mouth hot and wet and so _sweet_ around him. Bucky built a slow pace, tongue dragging along the underside and curling around the head with every upward suck. “ _Yeah_ , you’re so _good_ , Bucky.”

Bucky shuddered under the praise, Steve’s fingers gently raking through his hair as he sucked. He took note of what made Steve’s breath hitch, scattered memories supplementing his skill. Flicking his tongue just beneath Steve’s cockhead made Steve clench his thighs around his shoulders and tug on his hair.

“Jesus Bucky, you’re gonna make me come,” panted Steve, notion that Bucky _wanted_ him already putting him on edge, sinful mouth around his cock pushing him closer to that peak.

“Wouldn’t want that, would we,” said Bucky, smirking when Steve let out a pathetic sigh. “Do you have anything? Lube…?”

Steve nodded and freed his hand, waiting for Bucky to shift and take off his boxers, then rifling in his night table. He set the lubricant next to Bucky and palmed his shoulders, pressing their mouths together and groaning when Bucky opened up under the press of his tongue. They kissed until their lips were swollen, Bucky’s eyes bright and wild when he pulled back.

“I’d really like it if you got on your hands and knees, Steve,” he said, relishing Steve’s shiver before he hurried to comply, shoulders tense as he held himself up. “How are you even real?” he dragged his hands over Steve’s back, Steve’s muscles jumping under the teasing pressure. Steve’s broad shoulders narrowed into his trim waist, spine bowed, highlighting his firm buttocks. Bucky curved his hands over Steve’s ass, squeezing his cheeks and making Steve rock back into his touch.

“ _Bucky_ ,” breathed Steve, head dipping between his shoulders. His fingers tightened in the mussed comforter, chest heaving as Bucky took his fill of his body.

“I remember the first time we did this in theater,” said Bucky, Steve’s ass dimpling under the press of his hands, “I was so fucking amazed that you were the same Steve I had sex with before I shipped out.”

“God, Bucky, that was a good night.” They’d had legitimate racks, then, sturdy beds that didn’t creak and squeal with every movement. Bucky’d slowly opened him on thick fingers, taking his time before Steve took over and sank down on Bucky’s lap, Bucky’s hands roaming his body as they moved together.

Bucky nodded and squeezed Steve’s ass again, thumbs spreading his cheeks and revealing Steve’s hole. He rubbed his tongue over his bottom lip, Steve’s entrance clenching under his attention. “I want to feel you open up around my tongue,” he whispered, tenderly stroking his metal thumb over Steve’s asshole, hitch in Steve’s breathing making him smirk.

His body shuddered as he nodded jerkily, moaning and pushing back against Bucky’s palms. “Do it, then,” groaned Steve, dropping to his forearms and pressing his forehead against his intertwined fingers.

“Do you want that?” asked Bucky, pressing his thumb into Steve, digit barely slipping inside.

“ _Yes_ , Bucky, I want you to lick me open.” Steve felt his upper body flush, sure Bucky noticed the reddened tips of his ears and the nape of his neck. It wasn’t as if Bucky had never put his mouth there before, but hearing the sheer _want_ in Bucky’s tone made his cock twitch between his legs. “ _Please_ , Buck,” he moaned, looking back at Bucky and wiggling his hips.

“You little--” he pinched Steve’s ass, Steve’s hips bucking forward as he gasped. Before Steve could duck his head again he leant in and dragged his tongue from Steve’s perineum to his tailbone.

“Oh my _god_.” Steve balanced on one forearm and reached back toward Bucky’s head, Bucky letting him tangle his fingers in his hair before Bucky dipped forward again, tongue slowly circling his rim.

The first time, Steve almost _screamed_ under the press of his tongue, body vibrating as Bucky licked over his hole without any warning. He’d been small, then, Steve’s legs over his shoulders as he’d sucked Steve’s cock, dipping lower after Steve came and swirling his tongue over Steve’s asshole.

Now, Steve kept to soft sounds, gasping whimpers as he pushed back onto his tongue, Steve’s fingertips massaging his scalp. He got Steve wet, pressing his thumb alongside his tongue, finger slipping into Steve’s tight heat.

“Bucky, _more_ , c’mon. I want more, _please_ ,” begged Steve, felt precome beading at the tip of his cock.

Bucky smirked and curled his thumb, Steve’s deep moan letting him know he’d grazed Steve’s prostate. He flicked just the tip of his tongue over Steve’s hole, teasing around his thumb as he worked over that spot inside. Steve moaned his name and a shudder wracked his spine. “I want you to come when I fuck you,” he whispered, _felt_ Steve rein in his control, muscles steadying, breathing returning to something comparable to stable.

“You better hurry things up then, Buck,” said Steve, breathless laugh falling from his mouth when Bucky gave his hole one last lick before kneeling behind him.

He kept working his thumb inside of Steve, right hand squeezing more lube between his buttocks. Fingers slick, he fucked them into Steve’s body, muscle easily stretching around the press of his digits. Bucky knew how the ridges of his metal fingers felt against his real fingers, could only imagine how the plating felt against Steve’s insides.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” hissed Steve, grinding back on Bucky’s fingers, working himself back and forth on Bucky’s hand.

“Christ, Steve,” whispered Bucky, leaning back and watching Steve move. He pressed a third finger against Steve’s hole, Steve stilling momentarily under the pressure. His fingers slid in to the knuckle and Steve shivered, body a tight clench around his fingers. Steve spread his legs further apart and groaned his name, hand curling around the base of his cock.

“That’s good, Buck. I’m good, I’m ready,” said Steve in a rush, looking back at Bucky with a flushed face and a fond smile, “I want you to fuck me.”

Bucky nodded and freed his fingers, squeezing more lube between Steve’s cheeks and then coating his cock. He tossed the bottle onto Steve’s nightstand and rubbed Steve’s waist. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, Bucky, _please_ ,” answered Steve, keeping eye contact as Bucky guided himself into his body. “That’s it, Buck, _Jesus_.” He tightened his fingers around his dick, head dropping between his shoulders again. Bucky’s hips pressed tight against his ass and he let out a shaky breath.

Bucky smoothed his hands up and down Steve’s body, constantly amazed that Steve trusted him at his back. Steve never tracked where he was, didn’t feel scared or worried about him not being in his sights at all times, but Steve always managed to know where to find him when Steve needed him. Steve _trusted_ him, trusted in his ability to maintain himself and not fall into the functionality of the Soldier. He sighed and pressed along Steve’s back, arms curled around Steve’s waist. “God, Steve, you feel amazing,” he whispered, kissing his way across Steve’s shoulders and then pressing his cheek against Steve’s nape.

Steve groaned in agreement, letting go of his cock to cover Bucky’s metal hand against his abdomen. He curled their fingers together and rolled his hips, Bucky’s quiet moan making him shiver. “Show me what you’re made of,” he whispered, smirking when Bucky nipped the back of his neck.

He stayed pressed against Steve just like that, bodies as close as they could possibly get. Bucky reveled in the heat of Steve’s body, flush against his chest and all around his cock. He wanted to bury himself in Steve and keep him safe, let Steve protect him in turn. Another moment passed before tension prickled along his spine, unable to let go of his awareness even in the haven of their apartment. A glance back at the doorway and Steve’s windows let him know they were okay, that nothing would disturb them while they were together how they were meant to be.

“You okay?” asked Steve, barely a breath of sound as he turned back and looked at Bucky, Bucky too close for his eyes to focus properly on his face.

“m’perfect, Steve,” said Bucky, grinning at Steve and sitting up, hands firmly planted on Steve’s waist. He circled his hips, Steve’s chin dipping toward his chest again. Squeezing Steve’s waist, he slowly pulled his hips back, snapping forward and sinking in deep.

“ _A-ah_ , Bucky…” Steve balanced on his forearms, linking his fingers and pressing his forehead against his fists. He arched his back even further, spine a taut bow as Bucky rocked into his body.

Bucky focused on Steve’s slick skin under the tight grip of his hands, grounding himself in the way his palms spread across the smooth expanse of Steve’s waist. Steve ground back in time with the roll of his hips, hot clench of Steve’s body bringing him closer to his release.

He leant over Steve’s back, mouth pressed against Steve’s ear. Bucky whispered his name and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist, carefully pulling at Steve until Steve understood what he wanted. They knelt together, Steve spread wide over his thighs, strong back pressed tight against his chest, fingers curled with those of his metal hand.

“Move, Steve,” he groaned, palming Steve’s hips and squeezing tight, “C’mon, want you to ride me.”

“God, Bucky, _yes_.” Steve’s mouth fell open, soft gasps spilling from his lips with every rise and fall of his hips.

Steve tightened around him as he lifted from his lap, body loose when he fucked back down. He reached for Steve’s cock, moaning and pressing his face between Steve’s shoulder blades as Steve wrapped his metal hand and his own hand around his erection. Bucky kept his fist loose enough so Steve’s movements worked his cock through the curl of their fingers.

He kissed the top of Steve’s spine, mouthing the press of bone. His own orgasm burned low at the small of his back, coiling higher as they moved together, like the goddamned high striker when Steve had taken him to Coney Island. One perfect press of Steve’s hips down on his lap and he would lose it, body lighting like that fucking carnival game: test your strength, Rogers; congratulations, big guy, you’ve won a load in your ass.

Bucky snickered against Steve’s back, steadily rocking up into Steve, fingers tightening around Steve’s dick momentarily before he let go completely. “I want to make you come with my cock,” he breathed, hot fan of his words across the shell of Steve’s ear making him shiver.

“Okay, Buck, _yeah_ ,” said Steve, nodding frantically and holding Bucky’s hands against his stomach, cock bouncing as he fucked himself on Bucky’s prick.

“ _Fuck_ , you are unreal,” whispered Bucky, sucking the juncture of Steve’s neck and shoulder, biting there when Steve tipped his head to the side. He licked over the blossoming bruise, knew it would heal in no time at all and it made him want to press more bruises into every inch of Steve’s skin. He wanted to lay Steve out and leave hickeys all over his body, watch them bloom and heal and do it over again.

“Maybe,” Steve gasped, settling in Bucky’s lap and circling his hips, “maybe next time, Bucky.”

Bucky flushed, hadn’t realized he’d said those things out loud, but Steve shifted and cried out, hips working harder so he didn’t dwell on it too long. Steve cursed with every gyration of his body, knew his cock slid over Steve’s prostate as he bucked up into Steve. He dragged their hands up Steve’s stomach, palms curving around Steve’s pecs and massaging the taut muscle. Steve’s nipples were hard under his palms and he pinched them between his fingers, Steve’s movements stuttering as he groaned.

“Bucky, _god_ , I’m gonna lose it,” huffed Steve, cock slick with precome, abdomen clenching, and heat spreading toward his fingertips and toes.

“That’s what I _want_ , Steve,” whispered Bucky, tonguing the lobe of Steve’s ear and then catching it between his teeth, gently tugging until Steve tossed his head back and cried out. “God yes, Steve,” he said, watching Steve’s release ribbon across the comforter, almost reaching the headboard as Steve shuddered and gasped in his lap.

“Come on, Buck, _c’mon_.” Steve continued moving, muscles still twitching from his orgasm. He dropped Bucky’s hands and curled his palms around Bucky’s thighs, fingers wrapped tightly around his strong legs, bobbing on Bucky’s dick. “I want to feel you fill me up,” he said, glancing back at Bucky through his lashes, blush spread across the apples of his cheeks, little quirk of his mouth belying his innocent flush.

“Fucking Christ, Steve,” growled Bucky, wrapping Steve in his arms and holding him tight, stilling Steve’s movements and grinding up into him. Steve _let_ him use his body, _wanted_ him to come inside him, filthy encouragement spilling from his reddened mouth. Steve made this sound, an almost _hurt_ moan and he squeezed Steve and orgasmed, burying his cry of Steve’s name in the back of his neck as he rolled his hips through his climax. He panted against Steve’s shoulder, kissing his shoulder blade and shuddering at the tight clench of Steve around his softening cock.

He helped Steve off his lap, chuckling as he collapsed face-first into his bed, uncaring of the come staining the duvet. Bucky shook his head and carefully rubbed his right thumb between Steve’s buttocks, relishing the flex of Steve’s ass and his soft moan. He found his boxers and gently wiped down Steve, dragging the fabric between his asscheeks and then wiping down his own cock.

Bucky sat back on his heels and let his gaze linger over Steve, limbs akimbo as he caught his breath. Steve looked back at him, dopey grin curling the corners of his pretty mouth.

“C’mere,” he slurred, reaching for Bucky’s cybernetic arm and tugging at him until Bucky settled down on his side in front of him, body fitted against the broad expanse of his chest. “Good Bucky,” he teased, keeping a hold of Bucky’s metal hand and tucking their fists against Bucky’s sternum.

“Shut your mouth,” snorted Bucky, breath quickening momentarily as Steve held him in his arms, brain screaming _trappedtrappedtrapped_ at him before Steve brushed his mouth against his shoulder and kissed the start of his metal arm. Steve pressed another kiss to the metal and settled his cheek in the crook of his neck.

“Everything you wanted?” asked Steve, tucking his legs in the back of Bucky’s knees and wriggling closer. He stroked his thumb over Bucky’s scars and kissed the hinge of Bucky’s jaw.

Bucky sighed out a ‘yes,’ and relaxed in the curve of Steve’s body. Steve kissed his jaw again, and he knew, with Steve at his six he could get used to being allowed to want.


End file.
